It's Hard to Live in the City
by Betsy86
Summary: AU. Angst. Character death. Jess hasn't seen Rory, his one time high school sweetheart, since they were 18. OneShot.


**AU. Slightly angsty. A few choice swear words.**

**I don't own The Gilmore Girls  
**

* * *

It's Hard to Live in the City

You stop dead in your tracks.

Of all gin joints. Or coffee houses. You figured you'd run into her one day. New York isn't that big.

Her hair is pixie short and she's covered in tattoos and piercings but you'd know the cluster of freckles on the back of her neck anywhere.

You wonder if you can leave before she spots you but you don't quite make the hundred and eighty degrees mark before you hear her.

"Jess?"

You turn and give her a small smile. "Hey Rory."

You're sitting opposite her, both in overstuffed armchairs, an awkward silence hanging in the air.

She looks older, you notice. Older than her twenty five years, and older than when you saw her last. But that was a long time ago, you remind yourself. When you were eighteen, and naive enough to believe her promises that nothing would change.

You going to Columbia and her to NYU wouldn't change a thing she had told you, but two months in and you'd only seen her four times. And she was as high as kite the last two.

You sigh and break the silence. "Rory I gotta go. My shift starts in twenty minutes."

"Shift?"

"Yeah," You nod, lifting your messenger bag, "St Oliver's Hospital."

"You did the doctor thing?"

You nod and she smiles. "Congrats." Her smile doesn't reach the dulled version of her eyes.

"Thanks. See you Rory."

She doesn't reply, just waves and drains the last of her coffee.

"Mariano! Overdose pulling up."

"Right." You walk the to ambulance bay and help life the gurney from the rig.

"What did she- Rory?"

"You know her?" Dave, the paramedic asks.

"Sort of." You turn to the girl holding Rory's hand. "Do you know what she's taken?"

"Sleeping pills and a lot of whiskey." She has tear stains on her cheeks. "Please help her."

You nod and wheel the gurney to the open trauma room.

"Hi." You find her friend and sit down.

"How is she?"

"We pumped her stomach, and she should be fine. You did a good thing getting her here so quickly."

She bobs her head once, and wipes away a stray tear. "Is she awake?"

"No. She had a few lucid moments, but she's sleeping now. "

"Okay. Well I might head home for a bit. Get her some clean clothes and stuff."

"Sure." You stand move to walk away.

"Thank you doctor."

You flash her small smile, before pulling back a curtain to check on the four year old girl with a suspect broken arm.

* * *

Your shift ended two and half hours ago, but you're still sitting in her room. She stirs and opens her eyes, blinking slowly to adjust to the light and take in her surroundings.

"Fuck." You hear her swear.

You walk over to her bed but can't bring yourself to say thing.

"Typical. I get brought to your hospital." She sits up a pulls the IV from her hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving." She spies her coat in the corner and puts it on. You grab arm and pull her back.

"You just tried to kill yourself."

"Was that what I was doing with all those pills?" She bites back. "You can't keep me here."

And you realise this isn't the first time she's done this.

You lock eyes with her and ask her a question that's been plaguing you since this afternoon in the coffee shop. You ask her when she started cutting and he breaks your gaze and slides down the wall to sit on the floor.

"Nineteen."She whispers, "But, I guess more accurately the self harm started at fifteen."

You sit facing her, one eyebrow cocked. She never cut at fifteen. You would have known. And you tell her so.

She cocks her head to the left and then looks you dead in the eye. "Well, I guess it's not technically self harm if someone else is causing the pain."

You ask her who caused he pain and she looks at you surprised before whispering, that it was you who hurt her.

"I'm surprised you don't remember. Thirty minutes after mom's funeral. A bathroom cubicle, my dress bunched around my waist. It was only five minutes but it hurt like hell, and that physical pain to concentrate on was amazing."

"Rory-" You start but she cuts you off, "Don't. You don't know me anymore Jess. "

She stands paces the room. You stay seated and watch her. Suddenly she's at the door. "I can't stay here." She sighs and she's gone.

You stand up and make to follow her, when you're called into the trauma room to treat a multiple gunshot wound.

You'll get her number and talk to her later.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Jess? It's Luke."

"Hey." You smile, always welcoming calls from the uncle who raised you. "What's up?"

"Well..." Luke hesitates. "Emily just phoned. Rory's roommate found her this morning. She killed herself. Cut her wrists."

"Fuck." You swear under your breath."Thanks for letting me know Luke."

"Yeah." You were both at a loss for what to say, so you fake a patient in pain, and end the call.

You stare at the phone in your hand for a few heartbeats and then throw it at the wall, swearing loudly, watching it break into three pieces on impact.

"Lose a patient?" Rachael, a second year intern asks as she comes in.

"Something like that." You nod.

"You can't save them all. We all do our best."

"Yeah, well sometimes the best never really is good enough."

Because you can see it now. And you should have seen it before. The only person Rory Gilmore ever needed saving from was herself.

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**One day, I swear I'll write a total fluff of a Lit fic. They really are my favourite GG couple. Apart from Luke and Lorelai. Oh and Paris and Doyle.**

**Please review.  
**


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